


In Fire He Drowns

by i_am_a_hog



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 00:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19188310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Prompt on my tumblr: “How could you?” & “What have I done” (same speaker for extra angst)





	In Fire He Drowns

It was by all means a completely regular afternoon. It was cloudy, there had been rain in the morning and now, the air was clean and Aziraphale would have loved to sit outside, but it was just a bit too cold for that.

“Angel?” came from the other room.

Crowley’s voice was rough, as if it was difficult for him to speak. Aziraphale was alert immediately.

“Yes, dear?” he asked and put his book aside a bit more forceful than perhaps strictly necessary.

“Please.” It was barely more than exhausted sigh, and Aziraphale heard the pain in his voice. He took off so fast, he painfully knocked his shin against the coffee table to reach Crowley fast. But once at the door, he stopped in his tracks. Crowley was kneeling next to the bed, eyes wide and full of anguish as he looked up at Aziraphale, clutching his wrist.

“Crowley!” Tears formed in the angel’s eyes as he took shaky steps until he broke down next to Crowley. “Darling,” he choked out through tears and reached out to the stump of Crowley’s arm where his hand should have started.

Instead his forearm was lined with lines, glowing with heavenly light, as they came together at Crowley’s wrist, the light slowly eating away at his arm, lines spreading up his arm towards the rest of his body. It was a slow destruction, unstoppable and lethal and there was nothing Aziraphale could do as he looked upon the vial of holy water, that lay knocked over on his night stand.

“How could you?” He grabbed Crowley and shook his weakened form.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley rasped.

“It says – I wrote a sign! It says here, it says right here, _‘don’t touch’_! Crowley! Why would you –“

“I didn’t mean to, angel.” The heat of the heavenly substance burning through Crowley began to become uncomfortable under Aziraphale’s hands, but he continued to hold him close, because if he let go, that would mean accepting _this_.

“There was some on the outside. I didn’t mean to – I would never.”

The lines were spreading up Crowley’s neck and Aziraphale was vaguely aware of the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He had meant to throw it out days ago, bottled it up, so that there was no way Crowley could accidentally touch it; and now, a single drop of water at the lid had destroyed everything.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley repeated, his voice almost inaudible, as he clung to Aziraphale with his left hand. His strength was faltering as he brought it up to the angel’s face, tears of pain glistening in his own eyes.

“What have I done?” Aziraphale whispered.

“It’s okay,” Crowley insisted. When their lips met, it was with an urgency they had never had before. There was heartbreak and regret, there were tears and Crowley’s lips were scorching hot, but if Aziraphale could, he would –

_Stop time._

They were alone. Crowley lay sunken together on the ground, wings spread wide, cramped with pain. Aziraphale slumped down next to him. The light had spread to the tips of Crowley’s wings and the agony in his eyes took over everything Aziraphale was thinking.

“Crowley.” He muttered, through clenched teeth. Stopping time in his emotional state was the most challenging thing he had ever had to do.

“You have to let me go, angel,” Crowley panted out, but he reached out his hand. The fingertips were half-burnt off and Aziraphale could barely stand the sight, but he let Crowley touch.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered and Aziraphale nearly lost his grip on time – with every second that should be passing, time pulled harder and more viciously at him but he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t let go now, not like this.

“I love you. I love you and we should have had all the time in the world, Crowley.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You did nothing wrong. You were always right. Always. God! What have I done?” Aziraphale cried. Crowley’s touch, hot like hellfire against Aziraphale’s skin, made him look down; he spread his wings over them, shielding them from every outside influence, not that there was any. It was just the two of them; that was the only thing that mattered.

“I forgive you,” Crowley said. His voice was strong and when Aziraphale met his eyes, the pain was pushed away.

The realisation hit the angel harder than anything else – Crowley was trying to be strong for him. Even in his last moments, he was looking out for Aziraphale, making sure he knew how much he loved him. Aziraphale felt his grip slipping, felt time speeding up, everything was spinning, he was nauseous, trying to hold on, trying to save himself, trying to save time, trying to save Crowley. There had to be a way. _There was no way._ There was always a way. _Not now._

When Crowley leaned up into a kiss, sealing his lips over Aziraphale’s one last time, the angel let go, wrapped his arms around Crowley and buried his hands in the soft feathers of his wings. The heat was growing and when Aziraphale pulled back, the light was glowing brighter than before, consuming the demon from within. The last thing, Aziraphale saw before he forced himself to press his eyes shut was the look on Crowley’s face, that showed utter devotion; all signs of pain gone.

 _I love you,_ echoed through the room, before everything went silent.

He sunk back against the bed, and everything that had kept him together before, evaporated, leaving him utterly lost. He felt empty; even the tears that had been flowing so freely, seemed to have died with Crowley. And in the emptiness born from despair and grief, Aziraphale put the single black feather that stuck between his fingers into the shirt pocket over his heart, reached out to pick up what lay discarded on the floor and put on Crowley’s glasses. The darkness was welcoming.

Nobody would ever get close enough to see the pain that was forever blindingly burnt into his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.  
> (I had a thought about how.. Holy water probably kills you slower when you're exposed to less of it.)
> 
> Any kudos/comments for a starving author?
> 
> [Good Omens Tumblr](https://a-zira-fell.tumblr.com/)  
> (yell at me)


End file.
